Breathe No More
by Mystik Surreality
Summary: Eowyn takes some time to think of who she is and what she'll become... on her wedding day..


**Breathe No More**

  
Authoress Notes: This is just a sad little story about Eowyn... on her wedding day. Not what you'd expect, I'd think.   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR, or anything to do with it. I also don't own the song, though I wish I did. I luf it.  
  


~~*~~   
  


Eowyn touched a curl of her golden hair, entranced by the tall mirror before her. Her deep eyes seemed to entrance her as she studied the image carefully.   
  


_I've been looking in the mirror so long   
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side _

  
  
The delicate lace collar of the gown, and the pure white of it's folds, seemed so to remind her of days past. Of trials defeated.   
  
Of those who left her behind.   
  
A deep whole in her chest ached at her thoughts. Of her uncle, and her brother. One dead, one barely able to look at her without tears of relief coming to his eyes. Even after her valiant battle... Eomer couldn't treat her like she wasn't made of fine crystal, to shatter at the first harsh touch.  
  
_

All the little pieces falling, shattered,  
Shards of me 

_  
  
A faint sheen filled her eyes, but she fought to blink the tears away. She would not cry, she was not like any other woman. She refused to be.   
  
Through her tears, her image distorted. Was this who she really was? A strange, twisted being... one unfit to love or be loved. One who should never be anything but a bauble for someone's crown...  
  
No, she couldn't believe that. She was a daughter of Rohan, a warrior in heart and spirit.   
  


_Shards of me, too sharp to put back together  
But big enough to cut me if I try to touch her _

  
  
Faintly she placed her hand on the cool mirror's surface. Smooth... perfect. Something she'd never been considered. A proper lady would never go gallavanting around the countryside. A proper daughter wouldn't dare go against her uncle's wishes...  
  
Was she as horrible as that made her sound?   
  
It was her wedding day... why wasn't she happy? Why did she feel ready to burst into tears? She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve, only stopping to stare at the small water spot a moment after she did.   
  
A proper lady wouldn't have done that, either, she mused.  
  
Faramir deserved so much more.  
  


_ And I bleed, I bleed  
And I breathe, I breathe no more _

  
  
She stood and turned away from the mirror. Her skirts twirled around her as she paced the floor. Her breathing was ragged, her chest burned. Her throat was painfully tight.   
  
Her eyes were heavy with tears she refused to let fall. She couldn't let herself fail again.   
  


_ Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirit's well Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child _

  
  
She took a careful breath and let it out. The pain eased a bit, and the tears subsided.   
  
But she felt no less inferior.  
  
What right did she have to the Steward of Gondor's only remaining son? Fararmir was a blessed man, one who deserved a dutiful wife. Not a woman who'd disguised herself to fight alongside her uncle and brother. One who'd broken vows only to follow her own foolish way.   
  
She'd almost gotten herself killed then... perhaps it would have been for the better.   
  


_ Lie to me  
Convince me I've been sick forever _

  
  
She slumped next to her chair, arms folded into it. Her head was immediately buried there as she willed herself away.  
  
Maybe this was all for the better. Her spirit would be broken in marriage, she imagined. If Faramir himself didn't, then someone else would. She'd be expected to run her home... bear children...  
  
Her life as the Eowyn she was, was over.   
  
Maybe this was good, though. Maybe she'd been ill since her childhood, and now she would see that. She was surely not what a girl was supposed to be...  
  


_And all of this,  
Will make sense when I get better _

  
  
She lifted her head wearily. She was a daughter of Rohan. She had the blood of warriors in her.   
  
It was no surprise she wished only to be among the others, fighting for her home. She pushed to a standing position.   
  
She was a Lady of the Mark, and she saw this now.   
  
Nothing in her was to be ashamed of that.   
  
A shieldmaiden of Rohan could be no less.   
  


_ I know the difference,  
Between myself and my reflection _

  
  
She glanced back to the mirror. Her own reflection looked back.   
  
Her reflection... delicate, beautiful... an empty shell with no will, no mind. That was what she may appear to be.   
  
But she was a shieldmaiden, one who fought for her home and her people. One who was a person to be feared, and a woman who loved what she fought for.   
  
She finally understood the difference.   
  
But did Faramir? 

_I just can't help but wonder  
Which of us do you love? _

  
  
Which of them had Faramir fallen in love with? Herself, warrior and woman, or her beautiful shell of a reflection. She was both and she was neither.   
  
She only could hope he'd see that. She closed her eyes and lifted a square of soft cloth from her dressing table, to dab at her eyes. They were a bit puffy from her crying, and her face was a blotchy red, but she didn't see that.   
  
She saw a shieldmaiden, a lady of Rohan staring back at her, eyes set for the next challenge. Ready to take on the world again and again.   
  
She saw the woman who would stand behind her lord no matter where he stood.   
  


_ So I bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe now... _

  
  
"Lady Eowyn, are you nearly dressed?"  
  
She turned at the servant's voice. She was more than ready, she realized.  
  


_ Bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe,  
I breathe-  
I breathe no more. _

  
  
"Yes... I'm ready now." she spoke, turning and straightening the skirt of her gown.  
  
She was ready now. Ready for what may lie ahead.  
  



End file.
